


Drugs are a Hell of a Drug

by AlexLKerr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comedy, Drugs, Gen, Humor, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexLKerr/pseuds/AlexLKerr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen, exhausted and stranded, gets a five minute drive with the Winchester brothers, the eldest of which is a lee bit woopy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drugs are a Hell of a Drug

Karen was fucking exhausted. Over twelve hours of simply existing in either airports or planes and now all she wanted to do was get to her stupid Travelodge room and experience the bliss of passing out.

It seemed that wasn’t in the cards though. Instead she found herself sitting in the Travelodge lobby at one in the morning, practically dead on her feet, vaguely listening to the desk clerk try to figure out how to get her from _their_ Travelodge on the east side of the airport to _her_ Travelodge on the _west_ side of the airport.

She’d been on the last shuttle of the night and this Travelodge was completely booked. There were no cab drivers willing to take her such a short distance and when she asked, dully exasperated, whether she should just _walk_ the distance she was assured it wouldn’t be safe, as the route had no sidewalks or street lamps.

Hopeless, she’d just stared at the clerk dejectedly until he told her to go sit down in this surprisingly springy sofa while he tried to arrange something.

So here she sat, staring at the beat up and worn backpack under her feet on the floor with glazed eyes, listening to the subdued office sounds of the lodge’s night shift, and unconsciously fiddling with a pen, slowly flipping it over and under her knuckles. It smelled weird in the lobby - some mix between fertilizer and... Lavender Dawn? But wait why the fertilizer? All the plants in the lobby were fake...

Karen stopped and stared at the pen's inscription. She realized she must have stolen it from the front desk when somebody whipped the door to the lobby open so hard it hit the wall. She heard a small apologetic hiss out of the person, then heavy steps before her delayed response stopped delaying and she turned around, not particularly interested. It was better than staring at a pen though.

‘Tall dude’ was her first, most blunt, observation. Second were his dirty rumpled clothes and uncombed hair. Not like she looked any better, though. Her favorite jeans had gotten ripped in the knee during the camping trip and her hair was like a bird’s nest inside a bird’s nest. Thank god her hoodie was dark green and concealed the dirt and dust it’d absorbed like a sponge from the hike.

“Checking in,” he rasped. He sounded as exhausted as she was and her expression gave way to a knowing, lopsided smile as she looked on.

“Name?”

She noticed the guy’s long-sleeved cotton shirt was darker around his armpits. On that, she pinched her own sweater to smell it and apathetically ruled that smelling like a campfire was at least better than body odor.

“Sam Wesson,” he muttered as he wiped his hair back and glanced around the lobby. Before she knew it, he had locked eye contact with her. She blinked at him, unimpressed, because honestly even if Jesus himself were to appear right now she’d just ask for a bed.

Still, this was awkward. It was definitely too late to pretend they hadn’t seen each other so she put a limp hand up in greeting for a millisecond and accompanied it with the briefest weary half-smile before looking away.

“Did you make a booking?” she heard the clerk ask, and in her peripheral she saw the guy - Sam - turn back to the desk.

“Yeah. Two queens,” he said. The clerk looked confused and shook his head.

“You’re not in the system.”

“Uh okay,” he sighed, waiting on the clerk but the clerk remained befuddled as he looked through his computer. “Then, uh, just a new room is fine. Whatever you have.”

“Hold on,” the clerk hedged, picking up the desk phone, “let me make a call to see if you might have booked Travelodge West-”

Karen’s bloodshot eyes, half-lidded with fatigue, rolled.

“-Isn’t this Travelodge West?” Sam asked as Karen sighed heavily and got up.

“Nah,” she said, loud enough to get his attention as she walked over to the desk. “There’s two airport Travelodges, East and West. We’re at East.”

Karen watched Sam’s jaw clench with annoyance. She turned to the clerk.

“Seriously, this must happen all the time. You guys really don’t have anything in place to help red-eyes get to the right Travelodge?”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“It’s all right. I’ve got a car,” he toned. The clerk looked up hopefully and then to Karen. Karen didn’t understand but for the first time she noticed the clerk's name tag. Clark. Clark the clerk.

“Are you stranded?” Sam asked, breaking Karen out of her sleep-deprived, internal ramblings. Karen looked at Sam blankly, then back at Clark the Clerk, clearly not understanding. “I can give you a ride,” Sam explained.

“Oh,” Karen said, blinking, “I…” she winced, “is that…” she looked him up and down again, uncertain. She turned to Clark-clerk. “There’s… no other way?” she asked hesitantly but still pretty unabashed.

“I’ve called a couple cab drivers I know. They want to overcharge you but at least one of them’ll come in about forty-five minutes.”

Karen swallowed.

“How much do they want to overcharge me?” she asked.

“Twenty dollars.”

“-and how long’s the ride?”

“Five minutes.”

Karen leaned against the front desk and rubbed her eyes, shaking her head.

“Look - you can see my car from where we are,” Sam said calmly. Karen followed Sam’s finger pointing to a black muscle car under the lights of the Travelodge sign. “I have my brother in the front seat - you can sit in the back,” he explained, “and free of charge,” he added with a friendly, open smile.

The fact that this guy knew she was weighing the dangers of hopping into a car with two grown men whom she didn’t know from Adam - even if it was supposedly only for five minutes - had Karen wondering whether he was a sensitive and perceptive type of guy or a god damn serial killer.

She hummed doubtfully about the situation, about to say no, when Sam spoke up again.

“Look, my brother’s a little…” he paused, and Karen realized he was slightly worried himself. “I have to get back to him and we’re exhausted. Do you want to come with or not? No big deal either way,” he offered.

Karen let out a breath.

“Okay, yeah,” Karen she decided, nodding her head, “I’d… yeah, thank you,” she said heavily, with as decent a grateful smile she could muster. She realized sleep-deprivation and bed-desperation were a pretty powerful cocktail.

“Course,” he replied, giving a small smile back.

Karen crossed her fingers these guys weren’t serial killers and had to admit even she was impressed by her own psychological detachment. What the hell was she doing? This was exactly like the stupid chick biting it in the first five minutes of any murder mystery and yet… and yet… _bed_.

She went to grab her backpack from the floor. Hefting it up, Sam started leading the way to the door when Clark cleared his throat and smiled helpfully.

“Of course, as a courtesy, I’ll be sure to call Travelodge West and make sure you’ve both found your rooms and settled in all right.”

Clark winked at her. When the message sunk in, she grinned and mouthed _thank you, Clark,_ feeling particularly superior for using his name.She turned back just in time to see Sam’s brief nod of respect towards him before opening the door and holding it for her.

“Thank you - so what’s your name?” Karen asked as she walked through, figuring she’d pretend not to know.

“Sam, you?” he said simply, coming up alongside her.

“Karen,” she replied.

“Great name,” he said perfunctorily, clearly just working on automatic.

“Thanks,” Karen said, following suit. She appreciated that so far he didn’t seem in any way interested in her. It was like a quarter to two under the worst conditions ever; last thing she wanted was someone expecting her to be functioning well enough to flirt.

“Hold on,” Sam said, stopping short just before they reached the car.

Karen stopped.

“My brother’s a little, uh, loopy, so apologies for whatever he says in advance.”

Karen raised an eyebrow.

“You sure you don’t want… I can just take the cab…”

“No, no it’s fine,” Sam assured her. “He probably won’t even know you’re in the car.”

Karen made a face.

“ _That_ _’s_ weird,” she said bluntly.

“No, no,” Sam huffed a laugh, “he’s just… groggy from what he took for our flight.”

“Oh!” Karen laughed, “oh okay sure, yeah, whatever man.”

Sam smiled and whispered ‘okay’ more to himself than Karen. They resumed the last few steps to the car. Sam opened the back seat door and reached for Karen’s backpack.

“Ah, nah I got it,” Karen said quickly.

“All right sounds good,” Sam replied amicably, and headed around the car to the driver’s seat. More points for Sam that he wasn’t acting like some kind of white knight for doing this, Karen thought, right before ducking into the backseat and hearing a low, slurry voice.

“Merrily merrily merrily merri-” the voice stopped as the driver’s side door wrenched open. “SAMM-AY!” he drew out the last syllable and Karen winced and chuckled at the same time as she got into the seat.

“Hey Dean,” Sam said, his voice strained, and Karen bit back laughter.

“Whashhhyou put in… da back?”

Karen didn’t quite understand what he was asking until Sam looked behind him at her.

“Ah… Karen, this is Dean, Dean, Karen,” he said slowly.

“Wha’s a Karen?” Dean replied back to Sam immediately.

“I’m a Karen,” she volunteered cheerfully, starting to relax. This was surprisingly entertaining already.

Dean gasped and swiveled around to stare as Sam turned the engine over. Karen found herself looking into comically stunned, unfocused eyes.

“Hi, Dean,” she said like she would to a five year old.

“Hi,” Dean replied lightly like a five year old, then turned back around.

“Sammy that’s a _girl_ , man,” Dean insisted.

“Dean-”

“Where’d you find a _girl_?”

“Dude, she can hear-”

“-what _time_ is it?”

“Dean, Jesus, she can hear you-”

“Pshh,” Dean dragged out, “she can’t hear me-”

“She can; you’re being _really_ loud right now-”

“I’m not!” Dean resisted, then suddenly, “KAREN!?”

Karen covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

“See? She can’t hear me,” Dean ruled smugly. Sam glanced at her and she smiled. A street light shafted onto his face, reluctant amusement playing on his features.

“So, um, where you guys coming from?” Karen asked, now rather interested.

“Rome,” Sam replied casually.

“Atlantis,” Dean hissed.

“Rome,” Sam reiterated with emphasis.

“Jar Jar Binks bull… _shit_ ,” Dean said, sounding furious, and Karen didn’t hold back her laughter anymore.

“What’s he on?” Karen asked, genuinely curious now.

“It’s r’lly good, Karen, I’d high… highly recommend…” Dean blithered.

“It _sounds_ good, Dean, not gonna lie,” Karen laughed.

Karen could see Sam smile and shake his head before he pointed down behind him. She followed his finger and realized crutches were on the floor, a little hidden under the front seat bench.

“He broke his leg. Painkillers,” Sam said simply.

“Too negative, Sammy. They’re… joy…” there was a long pause and Karen was pretty sure Dean had lost his train of thought but then…

“Creators!”

“Joy creators?” Karen double-checked.

“What?” Dean replied as if she was the absurd one. Karen laughed but then quieted when Dean tried to whisper to Sam. “Sam, dude…” Karen saw Dean reaching out to touch Sam’s forearm.

“Dude,” Sam murmured back, elbowing Dean’s hand away.

Dean proceeded to vocalize slurry hushes at Sam, trying to reach a point of contact. Karen was cracking up inside when Sam slumped in visible defeat and let his brother’s hand stay where it was on his shoulder.

“Okay, what,” Sam said, “what is it?”

“I forgot.”

“Great,” Sam snapped.

Karen decided she could probably watch these two all day.

“Oh! I remember I remember I remember. Sam… Sammy,” and Dean leaned in so far he was practically breathing into Sam’s ear while Sam’s entire body was tense and crumpled.

“Dude, seriously, could you… not? Please?” Sam murmured plaintively, writhing away as much as he could without crashing the car, but still he made no moves against Dean. Suddenly Karen knew without a doubt Sam was the younger brother.

“I’m… I’m gonna need your help, bro,” Dean stage-whispered directly into Sam’s ear, making Sam flinch in surprised disgust.

“All right,” Sam said, and gently pushed his brother farther away so his mouth wouldn’t be directly at his ear.

“Sam… Sam I’m… ahhh…” and then Dean just started humming.

“Jesus,” Karen said, laughing aloud.

“Sorry. I think he snuck an extra pill…” Sam trailed off, clearly embarrassed as he ran a hand through his hair. “We’re almost there.”

“So you’re the younger one?” Karen asked playfully despite how tired she was.

“Why d’you think I’m the younger one?” Sam countered. Karen smiled and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she said, stalling, trying to figure out a complimentary way to describe it. “I figure… most older siblings… would shove back faster,” she offered.

Dean started singing 'row, row, row your boat' lowly.

Sam shrugged in response to Karen, then tilted his head in consideration.

“Dean doesn’t really shove back faster,” he said.

“So he _is_ the older one?”

Sam nodded, smiling, his dimples deepening in the car’s shadowy interior. Karen studied him for a moment until he shifted forward and squinted up.

“Here…” he slowed down and turned into the parking lot of the Travelodge West, “we are,” he sighed, pure relief coloring the words.

They came to a stop under the large lit-up sign. Karen was about to thank them and get ready to go when a thought occurred to her.

“Hey - you want to go and check in first? I can keep your brother company in the mean time?”

“Yes! Three’s Company!” Dean announced and Karen was surprised to have him back in the conversation.

“Ah…” Sam considered, looking at his brother as he slowly, with great gradual increments, lowered himself down onto the bench seat and almost into Sam’s lap. Sam rubbed his face and started nodding. “Yeah that’d be great, actually. Just give me two seconds. Don’t let him…”

“I know. I got it,” Karen assured him. Sam smiled and rolled his eyes before getting out of the car and jogging into the lobby.

Karen sighed and sat up closer to the back of the bench seat to do as she’d promised: watch Sam’s brother.

“Sam,” Dean randomly muttered into the seat cushion.

“He’ll be back in two seconds, Dean,” Karen said calmly.

“Good,” Dean replied pleasantly, “that’s good.”

“Mmhm.”

Karen looked around the deserted parking lot, biding time.

“Sssss’he got a shot wi’ you?”

Karen looked down, confused.

“What?”

“What?” Dean mimicked innocently, and Karen couldn’t help but huff a laugh.

“Aww…” Dean drawled lewdly into the seat cushion, “yeahhh…”

“Dean, no,” Karen snickered.

“Ugh,” Dean said as he pulled himself back up into a seated position. He looked at her dazedly and she held the gaze with amused sympathy.

“No roll in the hay?” he blurted sweetly and Karen started cracking up.

“No, no rolling in hay!”

“Well that’s good because Sam’s allergic, you know.”

“I didn’t,” Karen replied, feigning surprise and interest.

“Oh yeah,” Dean said, waving his hand like it was nothing, his tone so conversational he sounded lucid.

“Huh. So, uh…” Karen couldn’t help but egg him on, “you his wingman even when you’re drugged to the gills.”

“Oh yeah,” Dean sputtered, laughing all on his own now, “man, Sam’s got no game.”

“No game?”

“ _No_ game.”

“And you do, huh?” Karen teased. Dean looked up at her, gazed into her eyes, his head swaying a little bit ruining the whole effect.

“Well not like _this_ , obviously!” he suddenly blustered, startling Karen into another bout of laughter. “But…but-but when I’m good, I’m… _good_.”

“I’m betting it’s the arrogance,” Karen said slyly but Dean caught it and made a face.

“Arrogant? You’re arrogant I’m not arrogant. _Confidence_.”

“All right fair enough,” Karen laughed, conceding. She looked out the window and saw Sam heading towards them.

“Sam’s coming back.”

“Good. Sam’s fuckin’ awesome.”

Karen smiled. Sam came around to the passenger side door with Dean and opened it.

“SAMM-AY!”

“Hi Dean,” Sam greeted his brother the same way he had before. He crouched lower and further into his brother’s space to see Karen.

“You’re up. Thanks for-” Sam fumbled with getting Dean’s hands off his face and sustaining an accidental slap which sent Dean into uproarious peels of laughter, “-babysitting.”

Another slap from Dean, this time decidedly _not_ accidental.

“Ow, Dean, what the hel-”

“Not your baby, sugar tits,” and Karen did her best to stifle her laughter as Sam quickly twisted Dean’s arms to stay crossed and locked against his chest.

“Look, ah… it was my pleasure,” she said as she hooked her backpack onto her shoulder. “And seriously thank _you_ for the ride - this has been pretty hilarious,” Karen admitted freely, grinning.

Sam pursed his lips into a rueful smile and nodded as he kept his brother restrained.

“Well at least there’s that,” he said, comically despondent, and Dean leaned forward to roll his head into the crook of Sam’s elbow.

“Exactly, exactly,” Karen laughed as she got out. She watched as Sam gently tilted Dean’s head back away from his arms and against the seat rest before closing the door. He stood up straight and Karen sighed.

“Again, thank you so much, Sam,” she said, more heartfelt than before. Sam gave her a sweet smile and nodded.

“It was really nice to have met you, Karen,” he said, kind and honest.

“You too,” she replied in the same tone, looking into his eyes. They shared a brief moment, but then it was gone and they both turned, Sam for the driver’s seat and Karen for the lobby.

 _Dean was right_ , she thought, _Sam_ _’s got no game._


End file.
